Chapter 34
Phoenix
The wind howled as we reached the edge of the cliff. Below us, jagged rocks and shadowed crevices stretched into the unknown.
“I told you,” Caelen muttered behind me, “we should’ve taken the ridge. This is a godsdamn death trap.”
I shot him a look. “And I told you the ridge would’ve taken two days longer. He doesn’t have that time.”
Caelen scoffed, crouching to test the first handhold. “I’m amazed Elira puts up with you.”
“I’m amazed she doesn’t punch you more often.”
He huffed—but there was the ghost of a grin. “I’m sure she would, if she could.”
Even I let out a short laugh. Too true.
The prince grunted and began his descent. I followed, boots grinding into loose shale. The cliff face was brutal—steep, brittle in places, slick with salt-spray from the sea far below.
Halfway down, Caelen muttered, “When I die falling off this gods-forsaken cliff, I hope you write me a kind eulogy.”
“I prefer not to lie about the dead.”
Caelen took a step and slipped. I caught his arm without thinking.
He froze, sending me a pale, surprised look. “Thanks.”
I let go immediately, frowning. “Don’t mention it.”
We kept up our descent. The path was near impossible. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but how do you know Slade is even alive?” Caelen asked finally.
“He’s not dead.” I spoke with more force than I intended. “He wouldn’t die like that. He’s … unstoppable.”
Caelen glanced at me, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “I admire your faith.”
“It’s not just faith,” I muttered. “I know Slade. This isn’t how he goes.”
A beat passed.
“I don’t know,” Caelen said. “Dying for the one you love… seems like an okay way to die.”
“Drop it, your grace.” My voice came out flat. “I’m not giving up until I see a body.”
“Optimism. How charming.”
I ignored him. My fingers burned from gripping the rope. My focus narrowed to the ledge below—a narrow shelf that dropped into a deeper ravine.
We reached it, one after the other. The moment my boots hit solid ground, I scanned the terrain. The rocks were sharp, fractured by time and pressure. But something else caught my eye.
Blood.
I crouched and touched the smear staining the stone. Still dark. Still tacky.
“Slade,” I muttered.
Caelen joined me, brow furrowing. “He came this way. But that’s too much blood.”
I stood. “He’s injured. Badly.”
The trail led into a crack in the cliff wall—a narrow fissure barely wide enough to squeeze through.
Of course it did. The only other option was the sea. And I doubted he would swim all the way back to the beach from here.
Caelen gave me a flat look. “He couldn’t have passed out in a meadow?”
“No,” I said grimly. “He’s Slade.”
I scanned the terrain ahead, then asked, “The Wilds are close to here, right?”
Caelen shrugged. “Close is generous. You can walk to them from here in a few days. The forest clears eventually—leads straight to the edge.”
“So he might not even make it near the garrison if he came this way?”
“Most likely he’d end up in the woods. He’d have to find his own way back. No telling how deep these caves run.”
“No time like the present to find out.” I lit my hands.
Caelen eyed the glow. “Handy trick, that.”
I gave him a smug smile. “Try not to get jealous.”
“Oh, I’m trembling in envy. Truly.”
I picked up a piece of driftwood and lit the end, then passed it to him. He took it with a quiet sigh.
“You know,” he said, watching the flame, “I never wanted powers. Not really. But that—” his gaze flicked to my hands, “—that’s not too bad.”
We pressed into the crevasse. It swallowed the light, growing colder the deeper we went. Our boots echoed on damp stone, the scent of iron growing stronger with each step.
“Remind me why we’re doing this,” Caelen muttered.
“Because we’re the only ones who can.”
“That’s not comforting.”
I paused, crouching by another splash of blood. A piece of torn fabric—dark, coarse, familiar. His uniform.
“He crawled through,” I said. “Dislocated shoulder, maybe. He probably couldn’t climb.”
The path twisted, getting deeper and darker. It was narrow in places and we had to squeeze through.
“Let’s hope the tide doesn’t come up,” Caelen muttered as his feet splashed on the ground.
The tunnel stretched on. Further than it should’ve. We passed bones—some animal, some not. A smear of blood streaked one wall, drying to black.
Something skittered ahead—too fast to see, but big enough to make Caelen stop short. We both went still.
“I hate this,” he whispered.
“Welcome to the club.”
The ground sloped downward, the ceiling dropping low. We ducked beneath it, our lights throwing long, distorted shadows on the stone. I could feel it now—that pull. Not just to Slade. To something older. Wilder.
Caelen cleared his throat, voice a shade tighter. “Is it just me, or does the air feel… wrong?”
“It's not just you.”
We kept going.
A sound—wet and slithering—echoed ahead. Caelen stilled. “What was that?”
I lifted my hand, flame brightening. The tunnel curved into shadow, deeper than our light could touch.
Then I saw it. Not the creature itself—but a scrape along the stone. Long. Clawed.
“Something’s down here.”
“No shit,” Caelen breathed, drawing his sword.
The air thickened—damp and cloying. The temperature dropped.
Then something exhaled. Slow. Too slow to be human.
“Don’t speak,” I murmured. “Don’t even breathe loud. If it’s what I think it is… we stay quiet.”
Behind us, the sound came again. A ripple. A scrape. A whisper of scales on stone.
We moved—each step deliberate, soundless. The tunnel narrowed, walls slick and pressing close. The deeper we went, the heavier the air became. Colder too. Like the cave was exhaling frost.
Up ahead, the path split—two crooked veins winding off into shadow.
“Remind me why we’re crawling through a godsdamn hole in the world?” Caelen muttered, veering left.
“Because Slade couldn’t climb out. Because he went this way. And because I’m not leaving him behind.”
A faint sound echoed ahead—soft at first, like dripping water. But it wasn’t water.
Drip. Scrape. Drag.
Caelen halted. “Did you hear that?”
I nodded, lifting one hand. A small flame ignited in my palm—low, contained, just enough to push back the dark.
The shadows leapt.
Something peeled off the ceiling.
It moved like smoke, too smooth, too silent. Pale. Almost human—but wrong. Its limbs stretched too far, fingers tapering to hooked claws. Skin hung like parchment over bone. It didn’t crawl. It hung.
“Morrkrin,” I whispered.
“A what now?” Caelen hissed.
“Cave leech. They cling to caverns. They drop on prey and drain what they touch.”
The Morrkrin tilted its head toward the light, eyeless, but aware.
“They hate fire,” I said. “But they’re fast. Don’t stop moving.”
We ran. The thing screeched—a low, keening sound like grinding glass—and dropped.
It didn’t chase. Not exactly. But the air trembled with its presence as we fled through the narrowing passage.
“That thing touched me—” Caelen hissed, stumbling.
“What do you feel?”
He blinked, like something had short-circuited. “I… can’t remember what I was about to say.”
“Keep moving. Don’t let it take more.”
We came to another branching set of tunnels. One wider than the rest, but it was the narrowest one that had a flicker of grey in it. Light.
“Fuck” Caelen hissed.
I charged for the smaller opening—barely wide enough to crawl through. The stone scraped my shoulders as I shoved myself in.
“If we get stuck, we’re fucked,” Caelen snapped behind me. “Move faster.”
“This isn’t exactly godsdamn easy!” I snarled, dragging myself over slick stone.
Behind us, the creature shrieked—high and thunderous, like metal raking through bone. The tunnel vibrated with the sound. Closer now. Too close.
But ahead—light.
I shoved forward, scrabbling past the last jut of stone until my hand broke through into open air. Wind. Cold. Freedom.
“I’ve got an opening!” I shouted, voice hoarse. “Move!”
Caelen cursed under his breath, scraping behind me. His boot hit my side. “Try not to die before I get through.”
He followed fast, panting, face pale and tight as he squeezed through the last of the tunnel. Just as he cleared the gap, the Morrkrin’s roar split the darkness behind us.
We rolled out onto damp moss, gasping. Alive.
Caelen flopped onto his back, chest heaving, eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he turned his head toward me. “I hate caves,” he muttered.
A raw, wild laugh tore out of me. Relief flooded my chest so fast it hurt. I lay there for a second longer, gripping fistfuls of grass like it might anchor me.
Above us, the trees reached high—dense, gnarled, and shadowed. But through them, the sky broke in pale streaks of blue.
We’d made it.
But the relief didn’t last.
My gaze swept the clearing. No blood. No body. No sign of Slade.
“He’s not here,” I said quietly.
Caelen sat up, scowling. “Then where the hell did he go?”
I looked back at the narrow tunnel we’d crawled through—then at the fork we hadn’t taken. A darker passage. Slade wouldn’t have waited. Not if he could move.
“He took the right tunnel,” I said.
Caelen cursed under his breath.
We were close. But not close enough.